She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1. An unhappy little sigh escaped her. Maggot had disappeared. ‘Maman?’ ‘How touching,’ said a sarcastic voice behind her in French.
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